


Your daughter has told me so much about you.

by sleepygirl0305



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Dates, Grantaire being Grantaire, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire (Les Misérables), Professor Enjolras, set in a college but not actually college AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 16:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30108546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepygirl0305/pseuds/sleepygirl0305
Summary: Honestly, Enjolras didn’t know what he expected of Athena’s dad. Maybe someone distinguished, since his daughter was so professional all the time. But he knew this man was an artist, and he most certainly looked the part.How bad of a conflict of interest is it to ask your student’s dad on a date?
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Your daughter has told me so much about you.

**Author's Note:**

> i saw someone write once: "write the fanfic you wish to see in the world" so i wrote a good ol professor enjolras and dad grantaire fic with a third character. in any case, let me know your thoughts in the comments, especially of my ~kinda new~ character!

There were two light knocks on the door, and Enjolras startled awake on his office desk. His eyes darted to the small clock on the wall: It was 1 AM. Which meant there was only one person in the humanities building who knew he was there at this ungodly hour, and would be there with him.

“Come in, Athena.”

A young woman with a head of dark curls emerged, and he immediately saw the dark circles under her eyes, “You’re going to have to go home at some point, Professor Enjolras.”

He couldn’t help the slight smirk, this was his favorite student after all, “Only if you go home first.”

She sighed, opening the door a little wider, “You got me there. In any case, I just finished collecting data for the paper on indigenous education. Would you like to look over it?”

“Yes, please,” he moved his own papers aside, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being impressed at how quickly you gather data. Did the community partner pose any problems?”

“Not at all. They were very helpful, actually.”

Together, they worked, side-by-side, drawing out insights, highlighting interview answers and admiring the numbers. Enjolras would never admit it out loud, but she really  _ was  _ his favorite student. She’s the only undergraduate student he ever hired to be a research assistant, and she was brilliant. Sharp as a tack, and always spoke out to any homophobic or sexist remark in any of her classes. 

And she  _ knew  _ she was his favorite student. But she never needed to say that out loud, either. She was too professional to do that, and he admired it.

“Alright. You need to get home, and so do I. It’s 2:30 and it’s dark,” he frowned as he realized something, “and is it safe for you to go home? The buses don’t run at this time.”

“Oh, uh, it’s fine,” she stuttered slightly, eyes bleary from exhaustion, “I can walk home. It’s not a big deal.”

“Athena,” his face softened slightly, “I can drive you home. 

“Are you sure?” She hesitated.

“Yeah. Come on.” he gathered his things, “What’s your address?”

+

The ride home was quiet. Both of them were exhausted. But Enjolras snapped wide awake when she piped up in a quiet voice.

“I got into grad school.”

He turned to her, “What? That’s amazing! Congratulations! Which program?”

“The one here,” she turned and grinned, eyes gleaming even in the dark, “The master’s program in Diversity and Social Justice. I got a full ride, too.”

“I told you that you’d get in. They’d be stupid not to take you. Are you going to take it?”

“Most likely, but well, that’s where I kinda wanted to ask you something. If I took it on and accepted the offer, would you want to hire me back as a research assistant? I know it’s competitive,” she said, “and I know you’re supposed to consider new students. But I promise, if you take me in, I’ll up my game. I told myself that I wouldn’t go to a program unless I got a research job.”

Enjolras smiled. The endless endurance was so incredibly _ Athena.  _

“I truly don’t know how you can up your game, because your research is already on par with the doctorate students,” he said, “so yes, I’ll take you. No question.”

She sighed, “Phew. That’s a relief. You have no idea how tense that was making me. My apartment is around the corner from here. You can stop on the block.”

He slowed and turned off the engine.

“Oh, yeah. One more thing, Professor Enjolras,” she said, “My dad is coming to visit tomorrow. He’s only been to the university one time. Would you be okay if I introduced you to him? And if I showed him around our library and stuff?”

“Yes, definitely. Is he coming for your birthday?” He remembered her mentioning her dad during some of their conversations.  _ He’s my best friend,  _ she had said once.

“He is! You remembered,” she hesitated again, “And uh. Well. That reminds me. Uh. This is going to be super weird.”

“Hmm?” He had never known her to be this hesitant in these past four years.

“Well, I’m graduating this May,” she said, sitting absolutely still, “And you’ve been a really big part of my college experience. You’re a great mentor. I was wondering if you would like, stop by my birthday dinner? It’s tomorrow evening. It’s just going to be a restaurant, not a party, it’s not like anything crazy, and a few of the other department researchers will be there. You don’t  _ have  _ to go, I know that it might seem absolutely unprofes-”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I’ll go. I wouldn't normally do this. But at this point, you are more of a colleague than you are my student, so yes, I would be happy to celebrate with you.”

She whooped, “Thank you! It means so much! I’ll see you tomorrow then!” and with a wave, she opened the door, turning around to check if he waved back (and he did), before giving one final flourishing wave and walked into her apartment building.

+

Enjolras looked through the papers his student had given him one more time. Sifting through the thick papers, a small sticky note fell out of the packet, and he picked it up. In Athena’s slightly messy handwriting, it said  _ give dad the surprise art supplies. And buy the oil paints. _

She had probably written the reminder for herself, and then forgotten to take it out as she gave it to him. Carefully, seeing as he didn’t want to throw out anything she might need, he placed it back into the packet. He remembered, distantly, of Athena mentioning her dad owning a vineyard but being a terrific painter. He replayed a small part of the conversation in the back of his head, one of the rare times that he and Athena talked about anything else other than research.

_ He owns a small vineyard. Still up and coming. But the wines he makes are great. He’ll become famous soon enough. Do you like wine, professor? _

No, Athena, I’m not quite a drinker. But I’ll take your word for it.

_ I think my dad’s stuff will change your mind. _

Alright, if you insist. Maybe one time. When you’ve graduated and I don’t have to worry about drinking with my students as much.

Unable to process anything else other than the fact he needed sleep, he puts all thoughts out of his head, lands on the pillow and falls asleep.

+

Athena knew that he was coming up in the early morning. What she  _ didn’t  _ know was that he brought hot breakfast, a giant jug of mimosas, and an entire bag of gifts. Grantaire felt like Santa Claus. And he  _ loved  _ it.

He hasn’t seen his daughter in four months. He was allowed to be a little extra.

He knocked on the door, almost jumping in excitement. And there, opening the door, was his daughter’s joyful face.

“Dad!” she cried out, jumping up to hug him, as if she was a little girl all over again.

“Watch out, love!” He laughed, trying to hug back with one arm, “I’m carrying some food. Well, a lot of food.”

She let go of him, eyes widening as she took in all of his things: suitcase, two tins for food, a glass jug, and his backpack, “Oh my god. What on earth did you bring?”

“Let’s have breakfast, first,” he said, slowly lugging in everything, “Now, I hope your roommates are hungry.”

Together, he and Athena unwrapped a tin of omelettes, bacon, sausages, waffles, and fruit. Her two roommates cheered as he pulled out the jug of mimosas, and they all ate, chatting animatedly. As 9:00 rolled by, her roommates had to leave for class, and waved them goodbye. Grantaire was relieved now, to be alone with her.

“I missed you so much, kid,” he stood up from his chair and gave her a proper hug, this time, “and I really wanted to give you a bigger birthday celebration. I wish I could have.”

She shook her head, smiling, “Having you here is perfect enough, dad.”

“How about I show you your birthday gifts, and then we walk to campus?”

Grantaire couldn’t help himself when it came to gifts. Growing up, he was lucky if he ever so much got a pair of socks at the orphanage. The best gift he probably ever got was a set of markers that Eponine had stolen when they were in elementary school. He still had the markers, years after.

This year, he had gotten Athena a pair of earrings, a book on social justice (seriously, how was  _ his _ daughter an absolute nerd?), a new blazer, and a comic book. When she unwrapped everything, her face lit up, even if she scolded him for spending too much on her.

“I have one more,” his voice became soft with emotion, “I am really proud of you for getting into grad school. And since you’d be staying here for a couple more years, I thought maybe you could have an art piece to have.”

He reached over for a thick box, opening the flaps, and pulled out the canvas. He heard her gasp, her voice choking up, “Oh, dad. It’s perfect.”

It was, simply, a painting of himself. In his imperfect glory, posed on a stool, face in mid-laugh, with his arms crossed. Paint splattered all over his arms in the picture, hair just as messy as his daughter’s. For years, Athena begged for a painting of him that she could keep with her. But he always refused, insisting that he was meant to be the painter, not the subject. This year, though, he finally relented, realizing that he did, after all, want his daughter to remember him.

“This is the best gift, I’m going to keep it in my room.” She beamed up at him, “After I put everything in, do you want to head to campus?”

+

Enjolras hears them before he sees them. The humanities building echoes way too much, perhaps. But it has helped when he knows his least favorite colleagues (like, hmm, maybe the dean, for example) is heading towards him. 

He recognizes Athena’s voice, “I hate that it echoes so much in the halls. But it’s easily the prettiest building on campus. My professor said I can show you our secret library upstairs. You need a whole other way to get there.”

A deep voice replied, “So no one can really go in this secret library?”

“Yes, only a few research assistants and a couple of the professors,” the voice was getting closer, “Because of the rare book collection.”

There was another light knock on his door, and he can hear Athena say, “Here, you’ll get to meet my advisor. Professor Enjolras, can I come in?”

“Yes,” he replied, “Definitely. Come in.”

Athena pops her head in, “Hi! My dad is here. Do you have a moment to say hi?”

“Sure,” he takes a moment to stand up with the intention of shaking this man’s hand, “Hello, nice to meet you, she’s told me so much ab-”

He stops in his tracks when the man in question walks through the door frame.

Honestly, Enjolras didn’t know what he expected of Athena’s dad. Maybe someone distinguished, since his daughter was so professional all the time. But he knew this man was an artist, and he most certainly looked the part.

He can immediately tell that this man is Athena’s father. He has the same black curls sticking out of his head, something akin to a lion’s mane. His eyes were the homiest brown, and he carried himself with an easygoing but confident stance. Perhaps the only difference between him and his daughter, really, is the fact his hands are splattered with dots of color, and tattoos snaked up his arms.

For a second, he senses the same amazement in the other man’s eyes before snapping himself out of it, “-out you. Yes. She has told me so much about you. Nice to meet you. I’m Enjolras.”

The other man extends his hand, “Grantaire. My daughter has said you’re the best mentor she’s ever had, so thank you for helping her.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he said, “she’s brilliant. And I’m very glad she’s decided to come back here for grad school.”

“I sure hope you would be, professor,” Athena’s leaning on the doorframe, smiling a little, “Could you unlock the secret library? The dean took away my key after he found out I fell asleep in there once.”

Enjolras shakes his head, already reaching for his keys, “Well, Grantaire, she’s the best student I’ve ever had. But she’s also terrible at acting like a regular human being sometimes.”

Grantaire bursts into a laugh, and he thinks he would do anything to hear that laugh again, “Unfortunately, she takes after me.”

+

Grantaire and Athena waved goodbye to Enjolras, after he had led them through the secret library and showed them some of the rare books. Grantaire knew little about politics (and he’d be a fool to pretend that he knew anything at all), but even he marveled at some of the artifacts. 

He might have just marveled a little more at her professor.

As Athena unlocked her apartment door, she said with a tiny bit of amusement, “I told you he was your type.”

He tried to roll his eyes in an effort in self-preservation, “What? What makes you think that? We spent an hour together, that’s hardly time to determine that.”

“I saw the way you looked at him. You looked like something punched you in the gut. And he looked at you the same way. It was like a movie!” she waved her hands around in excitement and began to ramble, “I  _ knew  _ it. You kept saying that there was no way you’d find him attractive, that he was just my professor, but you gave him that look you have when you see someone and find them-”

“Athena. Relax. Yeah, okay. I found him hot.”

She squealed and sat on the couch with a drop, “ _ Hot?!  _ I didn’t even expect that! Dad, he’s coming to my birthday dinner, you should ask him out on a date. I know you’re going to be here till Sunday, so you can go get dinner, get to know him. Wouldn’t that be so exciting?”

“My love,” he sat on the couch with her, “I’m not going to ask your professor out on a date. He’s your professor. And you’re going to be his research assistant. It would be completely inappropriate. Isn’t that a conflict of interest? Or something.”

She glanced at him, “Actually, not really. This university doesn’t give a damn about much. And Professor Enjolras is professional, he wouldn’t give me preferential treatment of any kind. You should ask him on a date! Seriously, I think he’d say yes.”

“I’m not asking him,” he said firmly, even if his voice trembled a little, “That’s the end of the story.”

Her previously jovial face crumpled, and turned into a frown. He already felt his heart sinking. Even when she was little, she could always see right through him. She knew when he was having second thoughts, or things he was trying to hide. Smart and sharp, just like all her teachers used to say. Maybe to his detriment.

“You’re hiding something.” She said, crossing her arms, “What’s this about? You  _ never  _ go on dates, and I’ve never seen you look so amazed with someone. Why do you seem so firm on this?”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the strength.

Then her face softened with a realization.

“Is...is this about mom?”

And he couldn’t even control it, but a few tears slipped out his eyes. Athena’s hand slipped over to cover his while he shrugged one shoulder to wipe his face.

“It is, isn’t it?” She said, voice much more quiet, “Oh, dad…”

“I just don’t want to go on a date, it feels like disrespecting her memory. It doesn’t seem right. And I don't even know how to approach this kind of situation. I know it’s silly.” He tried to sound convincing, but he didn’t. In all truth, he knew Athena's mother probably would have encouraged him to go on a date. It’s just that he hadn’t done it in so long, he didn’t know where to begin. 

“No, no,” she squeezed his hand and echoed his thoughts, “I get it. I would think the same way too. But dad...it’s been twenty years,” she held his gaze, “it’s okay. You can move on. She would have wanted you to be happy. And you’ll figure out how to do it.”

He turned away, trying to push all memories of Athena’s mother from his head, “Okay. I’ll think about it. Let’s...let’s just have lunch. This is your day, and we’re going to celebrate it.”

His daughter nodded, letting the subject go, “Sure. How do you feel about pizza?”

+

Enjolras tried hard to review the agenda. He was leading a faculty meeting early next week, trying to convince the dean (damn him) that it was worth investing in an intersectional race relations and social justice class. He had gathered enthusiastic feedback from students (and he was sure that Athena had just about bothered everyone she took class with). 

His eyes kept wandering from the papers, though. Just looking out the window in his office.

He lives alone. He has a small, fancy apartment downtown. Save his lifelong friendships with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel, he didn’t really socialize much. A lot of the professors in the political science department were kind of a pain in the ass. He had never really given much thought to dating. When was the last time he went on a date? He couldn’t remember.

And as Grantaire walked through the door, he had blinked and took several double takes. Somewhere in the back of his head, he wondered how bad of a conflict of interest it would be to ask a student’s father out on a date.

Earlier, as he’d shown them around the rare book collection, Grantaire admitted he knew nothing of political science (“I used to make fun of those students, actually”), but asked thoughtful questions that had him thinking and detailing. Athena had even elbowed him, (“Come on, dad, it’s like you’re interrogating him”) but he didn’t mind the questions at all. It was always worth reminding himself why he was in the field in the first place, and sometimes, that was through pressing questions.

And then there was just the fact that the dark-haired man made his heart roar with butterflies, and made him trip over words. Which was a lot. Because he did a lot of public speaking. He didn’t really know why one man was making him so nervous.

He was going to have see him again tonight at the birthday dinner.

He couldn’t tell if he was nervous or excited. Or both?

Someone knocked on his door again.

“Come in,” he said, tearing his eyes from the window. He wasn’t surprised at all to see Athena at the door.

“Hi, sorry I’m back again. I have class in fifteen minutes, but I wanted to give you some more deliverables for your faculty meeting. I thought you might benefit from some professors at some neighboring schools endorsing the need for the class.”

He leaned back in his chair, hand reaching out, “Spectacular. Great thoughts. Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I think you will absolutely get the class approved,” she handed the papers, before frowning slightly, “Are you alright, professor?”

“Yes, what makes you think I’m not?” He asked.

“You...look like you’re in deep thought about something that’s bothering you.” Damn her mind-reading. She managed to do this all the time, especially when he was second guessing their research. 

“I’m okay. I’ll see you tonight. Can you remind me of the name of the restaurant and the time?”

She squinted slightly at him, and for a second he thought maybe she knew that he was thinking about her father, before dropping her face to a smile, “The Crunchy Chickpea, at 8:30. Thank you again for agreeing to come!” 

Once she shut the door, he looked out the window again. Now, what on earth was he going to wear at the birthday dinner?

+

Athena smoothed her hair out, managing to get her curls into a braid after nearly two hours of constructing it with her dad. She ended up wearing the new dangling earrings from her dad, and a black sweater over a pleated skirt. She liked her outfits to be both stylish and modest. After all, there was no way in hell was she wearing anything revealing around her dad, and most certainly not her professor.

And her dad ended up matching her: a black sweater over a pair of jeans. Even when she was little, they liked to match. There are multitudes of photos of wearing matching outfits, from her toddler days, and even at her high school graduation. And that carried into her early twenties.

So it was her, her dad, her roommates, and her three research assistant friends at the Crunchy Chickpea. They were chatting about the university gossip as the servers brought over hummus and pita chips, when she caught her dad staring at the entrance of the restaurant.

She glanced up and saw professor Enjolras, dressed in a red blazer and white polo. Her dad looked like he simply couldn’t bear to look away. She almost rolled her eyes, if not for the fact it was so damn cute.

Her dad was  _ whipped.  _ And judging by the unabashed the other man was giving, so was her professor.

“Hello, professor!” She waved him over, “We just ordered appetizers, we’re going to order our main dishes soon. Here, you can sit next to my dad.”

Her dad threw her a dirty look that she replied with a sly smile before she spoke back, “What? You guys are actual grown ups, you’ll have more to talk about.”

“I hate you,” he said through the corner of his mouth before smiling politely at Enjolras, “hey there, good to see you again, Enjolras.”

Athena watched them at the corner of her eye while she conversed with her friends, the topics switching rapidly from the university gossip, plans after graduation, and a feisty debate on the best restaurant on campus. But the whole time, even as her dad and professor would occasionally chip in their two cents, they were wrapped in their own conversation, almost spaced out from the world. It made her smile.

She knew her dad well enough to know when he was truly, absolutely  _ interested  _ in a person.

And this was it, right in front of her. She’d be a fool to not encourage them.

The appetizers have left the table and main dishes have begun to come in when her dad excused himself and went to the bathroom. In seconds, she made a decision (probably faster than she ever has in four years of college) and waited for him to get off his chair and turn his back. As soon as her dad entered the bathroom, she transferred on to his chair.

“Hello, Athena,” Professor Enjolras said, “I didn’t get a chance to actually tell you this morning when I saw you. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, professor,” she decided to not beat around the bush, “you know. This might seem totally inappropriate. But I figure if no one says it, it’ll never happen. You should ask my dad out on a date.”

“What?” He immediately turns crimson, and it contrasts with his blond hair, “I don’t know what you mean.”

She charged on, “You guys have been talking nonstop since you got here. And I can tell you’re interested in him, and it’s the same. No, really, I can tell! So there’s no point denying it.” she said when he opened his mouth to protest, “I understand that this is a weird tricky situation. But I won’t tell anyone. And it’s not going to make things weird between us as colleagues. If anything, I think I’d rather you be harsher on me, to compensate.” She stopped talking, conscious that she might ramble on too much.

Her professor stared back at her, startled by everything she just said, but she could pick up his denial fading away. He raised his glass of water, and said quietly, “You don’t mind if I do? At all?”

She shook her head, “I promise I don’t. I...I want to see him happy. Look, maybe this is too much information, but,” she looked at the door quickly, and was relieved to see that her dad hadn’t left the bathroom yet, “my dad is a really private person. He has friends, of course. But he doesn’t really leave his circle of friends. He doesn’t interact with strangers. So the fact I see him happy to keep talking to you...it means a lot.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw the bathroom door open, so she glanced at him one more time and moved away back to her chair, “Just think about it.”

For the rest of the evening, she noted that they continued to converse. But this time, professor Enjolras tried very hard to look casual and not  _ too  _ engaged with what her dad had to say.

He’s a terrible actor, Athena decides.

+

Everyone is wrapping up and beginning to go home, and it’s just the three of them at their table, now. Athena gets up from their table, and turns around.

“Excuse me, I’ll be back quickly,” she says politely, and Enjolras sees her raise an eyebrow at him before turning away.

Grantaire breaks the silence, “Phenomenal, isn’t she?”

Enjolras immediately agrees, “In my 10 years of teaching, she’s perhaps one of the most insightful students I’ve taught. I was nervous if she would choose another graduate program, because I honestly would have preferred for her to stay on campus. And it’s not just me. The department was scrambling to give her a competitive offer.”

Grantaire nods thoughtfully, “I have no idea where she got her brains. I’m an artist, and her mother, Clara, was a singer. I’m amazed with Athena every day, but she probably got it from her godmother Eponine or my friends. I’m her dad, but it’s like the saying: it took an entire village to raise her.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m an orphan. Most of my friends and myself grew up in the orphanage, so when she was born, they adored her and all decided they were going to act like her parents. Even more so after Clara passed away. All of my friends were going to come tonight, but they all unfortunately had other engagements, so Athena is coming home next week to celebrate with them.”

“I see. I’m sorry about your wife.” Enjolras didn’t know what else to say about that.

“She wasn’t my wife, but we were very close. It’s alright, though. Really, it is. I think of her fondly now. Athena’s been my entire life these past 22 years, and everything I do, it’s for her. I’m lucky that my friends were so willing to raise Athena alongside me, because I didn’t know shit about parenting when I was 18,” he huffed a laugh, raising his almost empty beer to take a sip.

Athena was taking long in the bathroom. She was probably doing that for a reason. So Enjolras took a breath.  _ This is either going to go well or it’s going to be a disaster. _

“Grantaire, I know perhaps it’s a bit forward. But if you’d like, if you’re available one time, would you like to have dinner?”

The dark-haired man lowered his beer before he was going to take a sip, and his eyes widened considerably, and Enjolras was cursing internally,  _ shit shit fuck why did I bring it up after he talked about Athena’s mother- _

“Yes, actually. That would be nice,” he smiled, “I leave Sunday night. Would you like to go to dinner at 7 on Saturday night?”

He sucked in a breath, “I’d love that. And I have a place in mind.”

+

The next night, Grantaire nervously put on a white polo with a denim jacket over it. Once Athena heard the news, of course, she was ecstatic, and immediately planned a list of topics for him to talk about. 

“You know, I’m a grown man and can probably figure out how to get through a date.”

She looked at him, unconvinced, “The last time you were on a date, I was thirteen. You came home slightly drunk and muttering how you bumbled the entire time. So, I must say, you’re a little out of practice.”

He mourned making Eponine this girl’s godmother. No doubt she learned all of her quick thinking from her.

But now, he’s walking towards a small, lowkey Italian restaurant downtown, spotting Enjolras wearing a red turtleneck  _ (he must really like red, _ he thinks) and waves at him. He knows he isn’t imagining things, now: his date looks at him, eyes wide, his cheeks a little flushed even if it’s a slightly warm night.

“Hi, Grantaire,” he greets, nervously smiling, and Grantaire thinks it’s so cute. Deep down, he’s a little proud of the fact he’s making a well-known professor whose lectures made him one of the most highly sought out speakers in the country. 

“Hey. Thanks for taking me here.”

The restaurant has delicious food, but it does nothing to also soothe his slight nerves. He and Enjolras agree to order a bottle of white wine that they both down relatively quickly. And they both stumble out of the restaurant, a little tipsy.

“I know Athena showed you around campus, but I’m sure there’s some history to the school you might know,” Enjolras was saying, “Would you like to see it?”

“That would be great, yeah,” He replies.  _ I think I’d follow you just about anywhere. _

An hour later, he has Enjolras pressed up against the brick exterior of the humanities building, kissing him deeply like a couple of horny college kids. He hasn’t kissed anyone in more than a decade, but if he’s going by the blond man’s slight moans and pulling him even closer, he’s doing really well. 

When they part, they’re both panting slightly, and he comes closer, slightly regretting what he’s about to say.

“I hate that I have to leave tomorrow. And I live so far away, I won’t have time to come with the vineyard and my work with other paintings. But I really want to keep in touch.”

Enjolras looks up at him, “Yes. Absolutely. I can give you my number.”

“Yeah,” his heart is warm, “that sounds great.” And because Grantaire knows he’s a piece of shit sometimes, he puts on his best jokester face and leans in, “as long as you sext me. Preferably in the middle of your conferences.”

Enjolras flushes again, and even in the moonlight, he looks so damn angelic. Then the corner of lips quirk up, and murmurs, “I’ll do you one better and send you nudes from the office.”

Grantaire chokes up at that, and Enjolras laughs before pulling him closer to kiss him again. Neither of them really want to leave, but eventually, they both need to go. They both leave with shy smiles, and Grantaire feels the happiest he’s been in a long time.

In fact, he’s so happy, that he blissfully ignores Athena’s shit-eating grin when he returns to her apartment. 

+

It will be three years later when Enjolras is fixing a stubborn curl in his hair, and there’s a knock on his door. Without waiting for him to answer, it flies open, Athena giving him a wide grin, her ankle-length sage green dress gleaming in the sunlight through the window. Almost immediately, she stepped towards him, heels clacking on the ground. Gone were the days where she tried to keep a semblance of professionalism around him.

“Oh my god, you’re worse than dad. You’re a college professor, and you don’t know how to tie a tie?!” She exclaimed, walking over and gesturing at his loose tie around his neck.

“I have never seen an opportunity to,” he scowled slightly, but smiled when she began to tie it for him, her eyes giving the task a laser focus, “Thank you though.”

“Of course,” she said finally, pulling the final knot. Her voice became quiet, “I have a question for you.”

“Sure. I hope this isn’t about your dissertation ideas. On any other day I would be happy to discuss it, but my wedding day is unfortunately not one of them.”

She chuckled, “That’s a lie. Once the reception starts, you’ll have feedback for me, and knowing the two of us, my dissertation will be done before I start my second year.”

He sighed. It was true.

“Actually,” she hesitated, not unlike the uncertainty she had a few years ago when she asked him to come to her birthday party, “we never really discussed something. When you and dad get married, what do I call you?”

He blinked. She had a point. For four years, she called him “Professor” with utmost respect. These past three years, she would say “Enjolras” with respect, but this time, less formal. But this, now that he was changing his last name to reflect Grantaire’s, he wasn’t sure.

“Well, why don’t you call me what you want to call me, Athena?”

She looked up at him, “I was thinking about calling you dad, too. Is that okay?”

He beamed, “Of course you can.”

And then she gave her jokester smirk, the one that mirrored her father’s so clearly, “Okay, or maybe I’ll just call you professor again.”

At that point, he’s comfortable enough with his new daughter -  _ daughter,  _ something he never thought he’d have - to whack her slightly on the shoulder. Athena gives one bright laugh that echoes through the house.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you were wondering, i kind of imagine athena as yara shahidi (because she’s beautiful and i’d let her step on me and her intelligence fits athena exactly). my only wonder with yara is that she has a certain air that makes me wonder if maybe athena is too goofy to be typecase as her. but i’ve also imagined athena as a young julia roberts too! but tell me how you imagined her, as well as how you imagined grantaire and enjolras bc i think audience ideas of written characters are so interesting! all my love!


End file.
